


Slice of Life

by Tynesider



Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-16
Updated: 2016-09-16
Packaged: 2018-08-15 10:15:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8052460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tynesider/pseuds/Tynesider
Summary: Nick's about to find out that you can't hide anything from your mother, but what's more unsettling is what she's been hiding from him. Oneshot.





	Slice of Life

She tilted the knife in her hand, studying the delicate flesh beneath for the perfect spot to make the incision. With a glint in her eye she flicked downwards and the blade cleaved effortlessly through, cutting all the way down until it could go no further. She raised the blade again and studied the sticky coating it had taken on, then went in for another cut. This one separated a piece entirely, and another dexterous flick of her wrist cut off another. She smiled as she looked up to the face watching her work. Her devious lips slid open, and with a flick of her tongue asked him,  
  
"Would you like it with cream, sweetie?"  
  
She slid her knife under one of the slices of cake and levered it onto a plate, which was quickly claimed by the uniformed fox on the other side of the table.  
  
"I'm fine without, thanks Mom," he replied.  
  
He scooped up the cake in his fingers, but before he could even lift it off the plate she had slapped his hand and forced him to drop it.  
  
"Nick, eat nicely!" she scolded.  
  
"I am! I washed my hands."  
  
"With cutlery. You can eat with your hands all you like at your house, but in mine we eat in a civilised manner."  
  
Shaking his head with bemusement, Nick sat down at the table and picked up a fork. He cut off a piece and shovelled it into his mouth, and purred with bliss.  
  
"Still as good as I remember it," he said, "You're a master of your craft, Mom."  
  
"Thank you," Mrs. Wilde smiled as she sat down opposite him, "It's always a pleasure to have you over," she tilted an eyebrow, "Even if it's only for cake."  
  
Nick stopped mid-bite, "Are you suggesting that I only come here for cake and not because I love my dear, sweet mother with all of my heart and adore catching up with how she's doing?"  
  
"I believe that, I just also believe that there's a reason you always come for dinner the first weekend of the month, the weekend you know I always bake a cake."  
  
"Well those things don't keep long, and it'd be a shame for it to go to waste. Best to get stuck in while it's still fresh."  
  
Mrs. Wilde rolled her eyes as her son gobbled down his slice in a steady stream of motions until all that remained were a few crumbs. He dropped his fork and patted his stomach with satisfaction.  
  
"Thank you," he chirped.  
  
"You're welcome. I hope the future indigestion was worth it," she shook her head, "Still bolting your food, honestly. You haven't changed since you were five."  
  
"Well, you're always telling me how cute and lovely I was when I was little, and I want more than anything to make you happy."  
  
"Well make me happy by indulging me in some conversation." She leaned forward in her seat, "How's work? Anything interesting happened?"  
  
"You grossly overestimate how interesting Police work is, Mom."  
  
"What's routine to you isn't necessarily routine to me. I'm interested, so come on, enlighten me."  
  
"Well, this week I did paperwork; policed some jazz concert in the park where I was the youngest person there by a good thirty years; did paperwork; attended a seminar on interrogation techniques and just about managed to stay awake during it; arrested a mouse for tax evasion; got laughed at for the irony of me arresting someone for tax evasion; did paperwork; did some more paperwork, and rounded off the week with a little bit more paperwork. In short: there's some exciting stuff in there, but it's mostly paperwork."  
  
"It all counts towards keeping the city safe, and that's all that matters."  
  
"I guess so. Still bores me to death most days though."  
  
"Well, there's more to life than work, isn't there? Have you been up to much in your free time? Been anywhere nice?" Her grin widened, "Met any nice girls?"  
  
Nick's eyes narrowed at her, like he'd fallen into a pit and she had thrown him a shovel.  
  
"And you wonder why I don't visit more often."  
  
"What did I say?"  
  
"You didn't say anything, but I've heard the implication thousands of times before. I think it's obvious who I got my tongue from."  
  
"All I asked was have you met any nice ladies since we last spoke."  
  
"Which is your way of saying 'am I a grandmother yet?' And the answer is no."  
  
"That's fine," Mrs. Wilde said. She picked up her cup of coffee and took a sip, all the while studying her son's gaze. He was waiting for her next sentence like it was an inevitability, which it was, to be fair. He knew her game by now, and far it be it from her to disappoint him.  
  
"All I'm saying," she added, "Is that there comes a time in everyone's life…"  
  
"…When you need to prepare for the future," Nick finished for her, "Translated: Nick, quit the late nights, find a girl and spread your seed for me."  
  
Mrs. Wilde glared at him, "Nicholas!"  
  
"I'm sorry," he said half-sincerely, "Mom, I would never lie to you: I am thinking about settling down one day, and I am seeing someone at the moment, but I don't want to rush into a big decision like this. I know you're feeling really broody about someone else's hypothetical baby – which is, can I just say, weird – but I'm going to take things at my own pace."  
  
Mrs. Wilde's eyes brightened, "You're seeing someone?"  
  
"When I have time to, yes."  
  
"Care to tell me a bit about her?"  
  
Nick shifted uncomfortably in his seat. His mother's eyes softened.  
  
"Nick, sweetie," she said, "I know I can be a bit overbearing at times, but at the end of the day all I want is for you to be happy. I'm not going to judge or demand you marry her by the end of the year – if you want to take it slow then I'm a hundred per cent behind you. I just want to know what you're up to, is all."  
  
She accompanied her words with her best smile, and her son relented.  
  
"She's someone I met at work."  
  
"Police Officer too?"  
  
"Yep. We've been going out for a while now, and before you ask I didn't say anything before because I wanted to make sure we were going steady before I told you there's a woman in my life."  
  
"No worries. Do I know her at all?"  
  
"You may have seen her at my induction ceremony, yes."  
  
"Ahh," she drummed her fingers on the table as she thought, "Is it that giraffe?"  
  
"Not quite."  
  
"Go on, tell me."  
  
Nick took a breath before speaking.  
  
"It's that bunny, the one who presented me with my Police badge."  
  
Nick held his breath. He didn't know what he expected, but he knew it would be negative, or at the very least accusatory. Mom had always been a kindly soul, but at the same time she'd never really had her morals tested, and here was her son saying he was seeing prey. Maybe she would accept it, but it would definitely come with questions, but as he braced himself for the worst his mother's only reply was a wry smile.  
  
"I thought so," she said simply.  
  
Nick screwed his face up in confusion, drawing a laugh out of her.  
  
"I'm not going to lie to you either, sweetie: I thought you two would get together."  
  
"W-What?"  
  
"I saw the way you two were looking at each other on the platform, and let's just say it was a little bit deeper than I expected."  
  
"You guessed that just by looking at us?"  
  
"Call it intuition – a mother's for seeing your look, and a woman's for seeing hers."  
  
"Jeez," Nick said, face numb with shock and awe, "Well anyway, yeah, she's my girlfriend now."  
  
"And I'm glad to hear it. From what you said about her that day she seems like a nice girl. I hope you're treating her right."  
  
"I treat her the way I treat you, Mom."  
  
"What, with snide comments and questionable table manners?"  
  
"Exactly."  
  
Mrs. Wilde rolled her eyes again. "And who said romance is dead?"  
  
"Ah, you know I'm just teasing. She's priceless to me – I always have her back, and she always has mine. We both talk a lot of trash, but at the end of the day we're always there for each other."  
  
"Good to hear. She's a good one so I wouldn't be letting her go in a hurry, if I were you."  
  
Nick cocked an eyebrow, "What makes you so sure about that? You've never met her, outside of sort-of looking at her one time a good while ago. Is this your intuition again, or is that just your baby-crazy mind talking?"  
  
He made his comment with jest, but Mrs. Wilde's expression turned into one of severity. She set down her fork and stared at her paws as she rubbed them together, like she was contemplating a major life decision. Coldness and uncertainly emanated from her, and it drifted across the table and stood her son's fur on end.  
  
"Mom?" he said nervously. Mrs. Wilde looked up at him and gave him a thin smile. She reached across the table and took his hands.  
  
"Nick, sweetheart," she sighed, tenderly stroking his knuckles, "There's something I need to tell you, something I ought to have told you a long time ago, and it's this: I'm sorry for not being there for you."  
  
Nick frowned, "What are you on about? You've always been there for me."  
  
"I've been there in the physical sense, but not 'there' there, y'know?"  
  
"Nope, you've lost me."  
  
Mrs. Wilde looked away, lips shifting with discomfort before steadying herself and looking back.  
  
"Nick, do you remember years and years ago when you went to the Junior Ranger Scouts and you came home in tears?"  
  
"I'd rather not, but thanks for bringing up that repressed nightmare."  
  
"Nick, can you cut the snark for just one minute and listen to me?" she snapped. Her son recoiled with shock.  
  
"S-Sorry."  
  
"Thank you. You remember that day, and so do I as well. You cried all night – you sat in my lap and clung to me so hard. You even slept in my bed because when I tried to put you in your own you refused to let go." She blinked rapidly as her eyes started to steam, "It was such a horrible night for both of us. You went through so much worse than I did, but it hurt me as well, and it hurt me a lot."  
  
Now it was Nick's turn to stroke his mother's hands. His feet twitched, yearning to stand up so he could hug her properly, but he held his peace until she finished talking.  
  
"Seeing your child get hurt like that, it's soul-destroying. It's one of my most unpleasant memories to this day, and obviously it was so much worse at the time. All I can remember thinking after that was I never wanted to see you get hurt again," she stared deep into his eyes, "And that's where I failed you."  
  
"Mom, you never, ever failed me…"  
  
"But I did. My responsibilities as a mother are more than just to feed and clothe you, they're to prepare you for being an adult. I can't tell you how to live your life and I accept that, but I can encourage you to think things through, and after that night I didn't do that. I was hurt so much by your pain that I decided that so long as you were happy then I was too, even if you were making bad decisions. I knew about the crowd you were falling in with…"  
  
Nick's face twisted with horror. Mrs. Wilde simply nodded.  
  
"You can't keep secrets from your mother, Nick. I knew about those people you were hanging around with, and I knew they were a bad influence on you. But I said nothing, because in my mind at least you had a group of friends who treated you with some level of respect, and that was good enough for me. So you kept seeing them, and before you know it you're not going to college and you're selling popsicles on the street and most certainly making a bit extra on the side through much less innocent means."  
  
Nick's arms trembled. "Mom, I'm so sor…"  
  
Mrs. Wilde shushed him with a squeeze of his hands. "It's okay, I'm not angry at you. You didn't know any better. You were just doing what you felt you needed to do, but I refused to intervene when I needed to because of my own cowardice. I didn't want to risk your happiness, but now that I think about it were you really happy living like that? Would you say you were happier then or now? Would you trade being a Police Officer for going back to...whatever you were doing?"  
  
"Never in a million years."  
  
"Exactly. I know you, Nick – you have a heart of pure gold. You didn't want that lifestyle, you fell into it by mistake, and I did nothing to help you out of it. In trying to keep you happy I did nothing but make things worse." Her head drooped, "You're probably wondering what all of this has to do with the bunny, and that's because she succeeded where I failed. You said yourself she was the one who convinced you to sign up for the ZPD – she questioned you, made you think again. Was there for you when it mattered while I wasn't." A single tear slid from her eye. "When I was watching you collect your Police badge I was so proud of you, and so, so grateful to that bunny. So yes, I may not have met her, but in my mind she'll always be a good egg for cleaning up my mistakes for me."  
  
Nick didn't hesitate. He leapt to his feet, rounded the table and grabbed his mother in a tight hug. His eyes watered as he felt her tears soak his shoulder, but he held them back for her sake.  
  
"Mom," he whispered, "You never, ever, ever failed me. You have always been there for me when I needed you, and you've always done whatever you could for me. Maybe you made mistakes, but so did I; we all make mistakes, that's life. That doesn't change the fact that you're the most amazing mother in the world."  
  
"Nick…"  
  
"And I'm sorry I made such bad decisions. I know we all do stupid things when we're young, but I never bothered to grow out of it. I wish I hadn't been so blind to how you felt about it; if I knew I would have stopped immediately."  
  
"Nick, you didn't do anything wrong."  
  
"And neither did you. We both just did what we needed to do."  
  
Mrs. Wilde curled her arms around her son's back and squeezed him tightly to her. She blinked another tear from her eye, but as it dropped down her face her lips curled into a smile.  
  
"Nick, sweetie," she said, gently rocking him from side to side, "I just want you to know that you're far and away the most important thing in the world to me, and while I may get things wrong everything I do for you is done because I want to help you be the best that you can be."  
  
"I know," her son nodded, "And I want you to know that I think you're the greatest mom a guy could ask for, who I'm sure one day will be an equally amazing grandmother."  
  
Mrs. Wilde snorted, "You know now that you've said that I'm going to nag you about it even more?"  
  
"I wouldn't have you any other way," Nick chuckled.  
  
Mrs. Wilde reached up and planted a kiss on her son's cheek, then let him go. She sat back down at the table, and her son duly followed. Hot, watery eyes locked, but no pain or anguish flowed between them, just warmth.  
  
"So," she said, almost bursting into laughter at the casualness of it, "When can I expect to meet this girl?"  
  
"Soon, I'm sure. It's hard to schedule stuff around our shifts outside of short notice, but I'll be sure to let you know when we have a chance. Perhaps she could come around for cake sometime?"  
  
"That would be great. I'm keen to talk to her."  
  
"If it's about grandchildren I will kill you," Nick mirthed. Mrs. Wilde responded with a similar smirk.  
  
"No I won't. I promise I'll be good."  
  
"That's just as well. The last species you want to promote making babies to is bunnies."  
  
"How very bunnyist of you, Nick."  
  
"Fine, I hope you enjoy having to single-handedly look after two-hundred grandchildren on a Sunday afternoon."  
  
"So you're admitting that you're going to give me lots of grandchildren one day?"  
  
Nick's eyes widened, before quickly falling into his paws as he squeezed his head in frustration. His mother crowed in triumph.  
  
"Don't be thinking your quick wit came out of nowhere. I've been running rings round people since I was your age."  
  
"When you were my age? Was Zootopia even around back then?" Nick retorted.  
  
"Touché. How about we call it a draw and have another slice of cake?"  
  
"Fine by me."  
  
Mrs. Wilde reached across the table to pick up the knife, but before she could close her fingers around the handle Nick's hand darted from his side and claimed it.  
  
"I'll cut it, Mom," he said.  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
"Yeah. You've done more than enough for me already."  
  
Warmth blossomed on Mrs. Wilde's face like a flower, and it drew out a similar glow on her son's cheeks. He raised the knife and cut a hefty portion of cake, and tipped it onto his mother's plate. Then cut an even bigger one for himself.

**Author's Note:**

> That opening paragraph is a bit of a rollercoaster compared to the description, isn't it? As you can see from that and other stories I've written, I'm a fan of the bait-and-switch. XD
> 
> One of the directors of the film, I think Rich Moore, tweeted a while back that Nick's mother is 'waiting for grandchildren', so that was my starting point with this one. It's also been a big hobby of mine to zoom in on characters that don't get a lot of love - there's a lot of interest around Nick's father, probably because of him being removed from the film entirely when he was meant to be a big figure in his life, but not so much around his mother. She only appears as a headless figure in the mirror in the movie, so I decided to grant her the gift of a face. XD
> 
> These are probably my favourite kinds of stories to write, just drifting through a conversation. It allows for humour, drama, emotion, pretty much everything in one sitting. A character's voice is also a great way of understanding what they are like. While not complete, I feel like I know Mrs. Wilde a lot better now. :)
> 
> Reviews are always appreciated!


End file.
